


Calling Dr. Jones

by ThislassisHooked



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Doctor Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M, Killian is accident prone, Patient Henry, Scientist Emma, Slow Burn, but not really because it's a oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:21:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThislassisHooked/pseuds/ThislassisHooked
Summary: Emma doesn't like visitors to her laboratory in Storybrooke General Hospital, but she somehow finds herself making an exception, albeit reluctantly, for the hospital's new attractive, accident prone, infectious disease physician.
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Comments: 23
Kudos: 104





	Calling Dr. Jones

**Author's Note:**

> For CS January Joy. I actually didn't even see my name on the list until New Years Eve, but I somehow churned out this little story in two days where I actually get to give my readers a little peek into my life. I am a medical laboratory scientist and this is sort of what I do on a daily basis, minus the hot doc and the precocious Henry. Enjoy!

He could hear the music from the adjoining hallway. The smile that spread from cheek to cheek was not due to the catchy, nineties pop music coming from the laboratory, but the woman who was, no doubt, dancing and singing along, oblivious to his impending approach. It wasn’t until he reached the barely propped door that he caught the lyrics, sung from Swan’s own lips.

“Doctor Jones, Jones, calling Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, get up now, wake up now!”

Killian felt his heart swell at the thought that just maybe the song wasn’t a coincidence, that perhaps she had chosen it on purpose. He hoped she had chosen it on purpose. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that every time he heard the music from Swan Lake, his mind would unwittingly conjure an image of Emma’s glorious green eyes. When it came to Emma Swan, Killian was most definitely fucked, and not in the good way. He was sure she didn’t return his affections, all scowls and eye rolls, and to make matters worse, he always made a bloody fool of himself in her presence. Gone was his swagger, his vocabulary, his god damned dignity.

He nudged the door further open and his jaw dropped at the scene before him. Emma was bent over her microscope, swinging her hips to the beat, somehow accentuating the curve of her perfect hind quarters in the not so flattering blue scrubs. The move was mesmerizing, seeing as she had to keep the upper half of her alluring body completely still. 

He must have been watching her for over a minute, knowing full well that if he didn’t make his presence known soon, he would definitely be approaching creeper status. Just as he pushed himself through the doorway, his scrub ties caught on the handle, making him yelp in surprise as his movement was suddenly halted, causing him to juggle the sample he was carrying, before thankfully catching it tightly in his grip while simultaneously scaring the living daylights out of Emma, if her startled scream was anything to go off of. Yet again, Killian Jones had made an utter fool of himself in front of Emma Swan.

\---

January was Emma’s favorite time of year. The stress and loneliness of the holiday season had ended and her workload increased with every new case of the sniffles that walked through the hospital doors. The lab is where Emma was happiest, staring at sample after sample of blood, sputum, urine, etc., identifying the culprit and sending the results back to the doctors.

From a young age, Emma had excelled in science. Sometimes she would even catch her foster parents bragging to other parents that she had won first place in the science fair, but it never seemed to last. She would eventually end up back in a group home where finding any privacy to study was rare and frustrating. She didn’t bother making friends, choosing instead to read every science book she could get her hands on from the library. She hadn’t meant to read the huge copy of the Sanford Guide to Infectious Diseases, but after only a few pages she was hooked. Emma considered going to medical school, but ultimately decided she would be happier not dealing with patients. She really wasn’t much of a people person so she took the next logical step and focused on behind the scenes laboratory work, earning her masters degree in public health from Columbia University and snagging the medical laboratory scientists job at Storybrooke Hospital.

She had been at the hospital’s lab for two years when she learned that the resident infectious disease expert was retiring and his replacement was a Dr. K. Jones, a professor from London’s School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine. She found it odd that a doctor with such an impressive resume would give up his or her fancy job in the UK, take such a pay cut and come to their sleepy little town.

She remembered the first time she met Killian Jones. She had strolled into her lab one morning to find a man with thick, dark hair fiddling with her electron microscope. When she cleared her throat, irritated that this stranger had had his hands all over her things, he swung around so fast that his hand actually knocked the petri dish from the stage and it splattered all over the floor. He had started sputtering out an apology while grabbing some cleaning supplies. She then watched in horror and admittedly a bit of amusement as things just got worse. He ended up spilling half a bottle of Clorox on the floor, then somehow proceeded to slip on the puddle and end up flat on his back in the pool, no doubt ruining his dark, form fitting clothes. She noticed as he laid on the floor groaning that dark scruff peppered his jaw, cheeks and upper lip. He threw his hands over the top half of his face, most likely out of frustration and embarrassment and when he spoke again, she noticed that he had an accent. An _ English _ accent. She made her way to his prone body and folded her arms as she got a better look at him. Her brain made the connection, seeing as no one without security clearance was allowed access to her lab, and was surprised that the British expat and her new colleague was so young.

“Dr. K. Jones, I presume?” Emma asked, trying to keep any hint of amusement out of her voice.

“Aye,” he confirmed, removing his hands from his face and Emma was instantly struck by the blue of his eyes, topped with thick, expressive eyebrows. She was right, he looked completely mortified. Something in his expression changed when he swept his gaze over her though and it made Emma feel exposed. She didn’t like visitors to her lab, only ever allowing her assistant Ruby to deliver Samples to her. Jones clambered to his feet while Emma continued to ruminate. “Killian Jones,” he clarified, offering his hand to Emma. She ignored it.

“Emma Swan,” she stated curtly. “For future reference, Dr. Jones, this is my lab and I value my privacy. My assistant will be in touch.” She turned from a speechless Killian,  _ note to self, don’t ever call him that _ , and swept her hands in the direction of the door, indicating that he could use it to exit the same way he entered. He left without another word, but it would not be the last she saw of him, in her lab, messing with her stuff. Killian Jones was relentless in his pursuit to befriend Emma. He got deep under her skin by personally delivering every STAT sample, complimenting her on her work, and always managing to make a damn fool of himself while doing it. She feared her icy facade was beginning to noticeably melt.

\---

Killian scratched that spot behind his right ear as Emma visibly deflated with that adorable head shake she gave him after every ungraceful mishap.

“Jones, I have asked you too many times to count for over two years to have Ruby deliver the samples.” She tried to keep her face stern, but Killian could see the tiniest crack of a smile at the corners of her soft pink lips.

“That you have, Swan, and I will continue to ignore your requests so that I may have the chance to see your smiling face every day,” he quipped while removing his scrub ties from the door handle. To his utter horror, as soon as he released his hold on the scrubs they fell to his ankles, leaving him in his dark blue boxers with little red anchors that probably matched the color of his face. Emma’s hint of a smile blossomed into a wide, amused grin. At least he succeeded in something today. He quickly hauled the bottoms back up his legs, setting the sample aside so he could retie them.

“Nice undies, Dr. Jones,” she snickered.

“Nice choice of music today, Ms. Swan.” She blushed at that. It really was the most adorable thing he’d seen all day. “While I would love to get snarky with you today, Emma, I’m afraid I’m here for a more serious matter.” Emma nodded for him to continue. He picked up the sample and carefully carried it to her workstation. “This sputum sample is from Henry Mills,” he explained as he handed it over to her. Her breath caught at the mention of Henry’s name. He knew she and the boy were close. Henry was the only visitor to the lab Emma welcomed with open arms. The lad had a knack for science and would often visit the hospital to learn as much about medical science from Emma or himself.

“What do you suspect it is?” she asked as she placed the sample on the stage and adjusted the lense.

“He said he cut his hand while playing in his castle at the playground four days ago and he’s experiencing gastrointestinal distress. He has a fever of 102 with chills, but what worries me most is the redness on the underside of his arm.” He could see Emma blanch as she focused on the sample. He was pretty sure what he was dealing with before retrieving the sample, he just needed Emma’s confirmation.

“Positive for staphylococcus aureus,” she said robotically. “Have you started him on antibiotics? Has he responded?” she asked frantically. Staph infections were pretty easy to treat ten years ago, but with the rise of antibiotic resistant strains, such as MRSA, they could be a death sentence.

“I’ve already ordered intravenous methicillin and we’ll know in about four to six hours if he responds. I’ll keep you updated.” Emma nodded as Killian turned to leave.

“Killian,” she uttered. He paused at the sound of his name and turned back to see her bashfully duck her head and tuck a loose strand of her golden blonde locks behind her ear. “Thank you,” she stated sincerely as her eyes met his. He nodded in response and left to rejoin Henry and his mother to deliver the disappointing news.

\---

Emma made her way to the ICU, tears threatening to spill as she approached Henry’s door. Killian had diagnosed him with MRSA after he continued to decline with his first treatment. He had been admitted that night and started an aggressive treatment on a different antibiotic, but things were looking grim two days in as Henry’s condition worsened. His fever spiked at 106 just before he slipped into a coma. Killian started him on Bactrim, their last hope, three days ago, but he still hadn’t regained consciousness. The drug seemed to be working, his fever had dropped dramatically and his rash was shrinking, but the concern now was if he had suffered any brain damage. 

Emma spotted Killian leaving Henry’s room just as she came around the corner. He rubbed furiously as his eyes, let out a long sigh and trudged onward. She knew he hadn’t left the hospital since Henry had been unresponsive. The bags under his sad eyes were evidence that he was sleep deprived as was she. As promised, he had kept her informed, sending a nurse down to the lab with all the details so that he could stay by Henry’s side. She could no longer deny that she had very deep feelings for that man and she desperately missed his visits, as destructive as they sometimes were.

She pushed open the door to Henry’s room and was greeted with the sigh of the ventilator and occasional beeps indicating his heart was a least still beating. He looked so pale and still, a far cry from the lively child that had visited her a week ago. He had been so full of questions that day. She remembered he had wanted to know everything about mad cow disease. She let herself smile at the memory of his response when she told him it could only officially be diagnosed posthumously with a sample of the brain.

_ “Cool, do you have any samples in your cold storage?” _

She explained that the condition was so rare, very few labs in the world had those kinds of samples. His disappointment was quickly forgotten when she let him look at some of the blood samples the phlebotomists had collected that day.

Henry had been regularly visiting her for two years, his first visit having happened just hours after the very accident prone Jones had made a mess of her precious lab. The precocious either year old had wondered in, not knowing that the lab was off limits. He reminded her of herself at that age and found that she was happy to satisfy his curiosity.

“Hi Henry,” she started lamely. “I have a bunch of new samples that I just know you’ll be dying to look at. I can’t wait to show you your own.” She could no longer hold in the tears. “You just need to get better, okay? Please, Henry, I don’t know what I'd do if you left me. You’re my only friend.” She thought that last statement over and realized that it may not be exactly true. Killian had inserted himself into her life, curiously on the same day as Henry, and she found herself looking forward to her time spent with both of them. 

She leaned down to give Henry a kiss on his forehead and as she was yanking on the heavy door to leave, Killian came crashing through, apparently not expecting the door to open itself. He must have been leaning his back against it because he was once again prone, on the floor, groaning from pain and frustration.

“I’m sorry, I swear I didn’t know you were there,” she said, putting down her bag and offering him her hand.

“It’s not your fault, love,” he assured her as he took her proffered hand. “I just can’t seem to keep it together when I’m in your presence.”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, sometimes I find it kind of endearing.”

“Endearing…” he repeated as he brushed his hand down his front. She thought he was waiting for her to elaborate so she opened her stupid mouth and made it so much worse.

“Cute, I mean, oh god, I have to go.” She rushed out the door with the image of his shocked face ingrained in her memory. Now _ she _ was the one making a fool of herself in front of  _ him _ . She escaped to her fortress of solitude to try to forget that ever happened.

\---

Killian watched her disappear with new found hope in his heart. Perhaps his feelings weren’t so one-sided anymore. His face turned serious again when his eyes landed on Henry.

“She’ll never go on a date with me if I let you die, lad,” he said grimly as he approached Henry’s bed. He looked curiously at the brain activity reader and got the shock of a lifetime.

“She’ll never go on a date with you if you don’t ask her,” a little voice squeaked from below.

“Right you are, Henry,” Killian responded with a face splitting grin. He couldn’t wait to tell Emma. He proceeded to examine the boy, checking for any signs of brain damage. He was positive Henry suffered no permanent damage after listening intently as the boy prattled on about the different types of Ebola. “I’m glad you’re back, Master Henry.”

Killian gave the nursing staff instructions to call Regina immediately with the news then rushed down to the basement to give Emma the good news personally. His heart broke a little for the woman he loved when he realized there was no music coming from the lab. He could hear little sniffles coming from her office as he carefully entered the lab, keeping an eye on his scrub ties while also being vigilant of any other hazards. He knocked on her office door and got a somber “Come in.” Her eyes were wet and rimmed with red. She steeled herself, most likely preparing for bad news. Killian reached out his hand and caught a falling tear on her cheek with his thumb. He brushed the offending liquid away and smiled reassuringly at her.

“Don’t cry, my love. Henry is going to be back to his old ways in a matter of days.” Emma just stared at him, stunned for a moment. It was only then that he realized his mistake in calling her ‘his’ love, rather than just ‘love’. He was worried that he had gone too far this time, but she didn’t run. She schooled her features as she asked him a series of questions.

“He’s awake?”

“Aye.”

“No permanent damage?”

“Nope.”

“Good.” With that, she grabbed his collar and pulled his lips to hers, meeting them in a passionate embrace. It took his stunned brain a second to realize what was happening, but once it didn, he kissed her back fervently. His right hand shot up to the back of her head, holding her in place as his left pulled her midsection closer. She responded by threading both of hers through his hair, no doubt making a mess of it, but he couldn’t care less. His Swan was kissing him and by god, he never wanted it to end. She ran her tongue along the seam of his lips and he happily opened for her, meeting hers with his in a lover’s tango. Her appreciative moan gave him the courage to grasp her by her hips and raise them enough to set her on her desk. She voluntarily opened her legs to allow him space between them, letting out a guttural groan as their bodies met through the thin fabric of their scrubs. Killian really wanted to take this further, but knew that Emma would be anxious to see Henry and it probably wasn't the best location.

“Emma,” he muttered against her mouth. Emma responded with little kisses across his jaw and down his throat, igniting a fire in him that would be damn well near impossible to put out if she carried on like that. “Have mercy, Swan.” She chuckled against his thrumming pulse point then lifted her head just enough to rest their foreheads together.

“Thank you, Killian.” He pulled his head away only so he could look into her eyes that shone so much brighter than they had in the past week.

“For what, love?”

“For saving Henry’s life. And,” she seemed to hesitate, but continued after he gave her an encouraging grin, “for not giving up on me.” He knew this was his chance. It was now or never.

“Will you go out with me?” he asked sincerely. Emma’s answer was in the form of another kiss, soft, sweet and slow this time. She pulled away so she could hop off the desk, threading her fingers through his as she did.

“Pick me up tomorrow at eight?” Killian pulled their entwined hands up to his lips to place a kiss just above her knuckles.

“Aye, it’s a date.”

Emma strolled out of her office and toward the exit of the lab, excited to see Henry, all the while singing to herself. This time, Killian knew the song was meant for his ears.

“Doctor Jones, Jones, calling Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, Doctor Jones, get up now,”

“Wake up now,” Killian supplied.


End file.
